The Money's In Utah

Random Conflict

Compositor: Não Disponível

A massacre of fallen soldiers lay before me
Eyes of desperation, their hearts on their sleeve

Drought
The lake dry only cascading a bed of roses
Tentative inhaling
Fresh from the sorrowful planting
Still their colour blooms

Infectious to the scent I drift closer

Fire away
Hold the head high
The gun powder fills the air

Medallions round their neck; they gave their lives for us
Silence falls upon man as we say grace for such hero's